The Fifth Day of Christmas
by Ficalicious
Summary: Sam and Tara are more alike than they often realise. And when they find themselves alone at Christmas they realise that maybe they could be alone together.


**The Fifth Day of Christmas**

**On the fifth day of Christmas my True Blood booze took over me…**

**Sam/Tara - Not everyone gets to have a happy Christmas**

**This is the fifth in a series of one shots. My Christmas present to you, dear reader. They will all be different parings etc. I am posting them separately because of this. I hope you read them all and enjoy them. They are meant to be a bit of fluff/smut for the Christmas season. If you have a pairing you would like to request, send it through with a review. Your Christmas present to me can be LOTS AND LOTS of reviews! Keep the Christmas season alive. Oh, and I don't own them. That could be Alan Ball's present to me….**

Sam locked the door to the bar, grateful that the last customer had left. He was exhausted. He was fed up from a particularly rough night. And he was feeling pretty low. It was only a few days until Christmas and Sam always felt a bit lonely round this time of year. He ran his weary hand over his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

He opened them to find Tara slumped over the bar. Her back was to him, but he could sense her mood and knew that the bottle of Jack in front of her wasn't for decoration.

"What you doing still here?" He asked, making his way across the room. He longed to take off his boots. Actually, he longed to shed everything and shift so he could go for a good long run. He wanted to outrun this feeling.

Tara turned slightly and glanced at him over her shoulder. Sam could see she was already well onto her way to being soused.

"What's it look like, boss?" She sassed, picking up her glass and raising it to him in a silent toast. Throwing it back she allowed the alcohol to burn her throat and settle in the pit of her stomach.

"You look as bad as I feel." Sam said. He moved round to the other side of the bar, picking up his towel and giving the wood a wipe. His eyes stayed on Tara, watching her.

"What do you do this time of year, Sam?" Tara asked suddenly. Her large brown eyes sought his and Sam could see the loneliness in them. "Do you have family? Do you even celebrate Christmas?" Her voice was thick with liquor and self pity.

"Not really." Sam replied shortly, answering her questions with those simple, sad and empty words.

"D'you know what I do at Christmas?" Tara poured herself another shot. She motioned for Sam to grab a glass. Setting one down on the bar top he watched her pour one out. They raised and drank, their eyes on the other, sharing their self pity.

"D'you?" She asked again, and Sam realised that he hadn't responded. He gave his head a little shake no.

"I spend it avoiding going home. My mother gets blind ass drunk and she gets real mean. Usually she destroys any Christmas stuff we have up. I don't even bother anymore. We don't even do a dinner. I used to go to Sookie's. But now she's busy with everything, I don't think I'll even be doing that." She trailed off, her self pity consuming her.

Sam nodded his head, understanding. He, too, knew what it was like to be alone at Christmas. He'd spent damn near all of them since he was 15 that way. It was a sorry thought, that. Knowing that no one cared that you were alone for the Christmas season. Even with this bar and all of its patrons, Sam often had never felt so alone.

He watched Tara pouring out another shot for each of them. This felt right. This felt familiar. It was all too often that they were finding themselves sharing a bottle and falling into bed. And despite his feelings for Sookie, this felt good. It felt good to feel something and have someone acknowledge him. He cared for Tara, as a friend. He knew that she was doing this because she wanted to feel something to.

"I never much liked the holidays," he said softly, downing his shot. Tara looked at him sharply. Sam shrugged. "Too much fuss. Everyone puts too much into it and always ends up being disappointed." He knew he sounded bitter. He was sure that if he could just spend one Christmas surrounded by friends and family he would be the first one to jump into a Santa suit and start handing out presents. But that seemed like a very far off, unlikely dream.

"Yeah," Tara agreed. "It is a complete waste of time." She picked up the bottle and swirled the remains, eyeing Sam. He allowed a small, bitter smile to caress his lips. Tara took a swig from the bottle and grabbed Sam, pulling his face to hers.

Sam parted his lips and felt the Jack washing between them. He tasted the liquor and Tara at once; a heady cocktail that stirred his cock. He pulled her to him, the bottle clattering to the bar. Yeah, it may not be exactly what he wanted, but he was going to settle for what he could get. Anything not to be alone for Christmas.

**Just a short, bitter one. I know, I know. A bit depressing. But there are all sorts of things people go through at Christmas and I think that this was probably something that might happen to Sam and Tara, despite my best efforts. Let me know what you think and keep an eye out for Day Number 6!**


End file.
